


Detective, Detective

by susiephalange



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Abduction, Amnesia, Butchers, Humor, Multi, fluff with plot, gender neutral!reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 10:19:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7218577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiephalange/pseuds/susiephalange
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake Peralta is in a pickle. It comes with his line of work...just not usually like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detective, Detective

**Author's Note:**

> I've only seen a two handfuls of B99 episodes so don't hate me okay I actually love Jake Peralta so much.

Under normal circumstances he would speak his mind, but, with a gun against his head Jake Peralta, one of the best detectives in the 99th Precinct of Brooklyn, thought otherwise. It might have been the first time in thirty years he had shut up at the right time. Maybe if Jake had done it earlier, he wouldn't have been in the middle of this whole mess.

"So, my buddies and I are going to ask you a question. I'm takin' this gun off of you, and you're gonn answer. Got it?" the heavily accented man told him. Jake tried his best to assess where he was from - Florida? Texas? Flexas? - but his mind was whirring beyond belief in fear. Sure, he'd had better days, where he hadn't been gagged and tied up and woke up after being drugged in what he could only assume was someone's basement in New Jersey, but he tried not to think of that.

He could think of many things as the man with sweaty baloney-smelling hands took off the pantyhose from around his face. Jake could think of Rosa scowling over her cool aviator sunglasses about how he was a dumb-ass getting into the situation single-handedly, or hot dog vendors and puppy videos on the internet and free comic book day downtown at his favourite stoor. But what he thought of, really, when he had all these things flying around in his overworking mind, was _____ ______, the second best detective in the nine-nine. His best friend, and, according to Boyle, his 'lover'. Yeah, you two made out a lot and did Valentine's Day gifts and attended couples events, but he didn't think there was a label for how cool the two of you meshed.

Jake thought a terrible thought that he would never see ______ again.

"Hey! I'arm talkin' to you!"

"Mmm-hmm," Jake hummed. He flexed his jaw, and blinked a lot. The pistol was away from his face, thank goodness. He was a cop and even with his practice he didn't much like firearms waved around, let alone put on someone's body part. "I hear you."

Slap. "No smart-arsing, son," the man who held the gun scowled. Licking his teeth, he paced around the chair Jake was strapped into better than a baby's car seat in a soccer mom's minivan. Just before he took a deep breath, Jake noticed two things; one, his breath also smelt of meat, and that he almost looked like Garret from _Agents of S. H. I. E. L. D._

"Are you gonna interrogate 'im or not?" a buff man grumbled.

"Shut yer' cake-ole, Berkley!" Jake flinched. If there wasn't a hundred percent chance he would be shot on site if he complained, he would immediately do so, and begin with the unnecessary scare tactics. He'd already pissed himself. "Alright. So, Jack -,"

Jake frowned. "Jack?"

The men shared a look between themselves. "Jack Patterson?"

Jake shook his head. "No-ope." he popped the 'p' slightly. "Wait. Did you guys kidnap me and drag me to New Jersey to hold hostage and get the wrong guy?" his eyes bulged in incredulity. "I assume you're after this Jack guy."

The buff man who spoke up before palmed his forehead. "You got the wrong guy, Berkley."

Garret from _Agents of S. H. I. E. L. D_ 's lookalike waved his hand around in confusion. It was also the same hand which held his gun. "How am I to know - he looks almost the same as the guy, and his name sounds the same -,"

Jake made a noise. "How'd you know my name? I'm not in uniform."

The one who had taken the pantyhose gag off took Jake's phone out from his pocket, and showed him the screen. The background, a picture of him and _____ was filled with texts - texts from _______. "This person kept sending you messages, calling you by your name, dude."

With limited movement, Jake gestured to the chair he was almost fused to. "Want to help a guy out, fellas?"

Before anyone could move, the sound of a door being kicked in sounded from behind him. "Nobody move! NYPD!" a familiar voice rang in his ears.

"Hands in the air, you're under - Jake?"

He perked up. "_______?"

Jake wasn't sure. There were a lot of familiar voices he knew that sounded a lot like ______'s voice. It could be Santiago or Terry for all he knew; Jake could have been still affected by the drug they used to knock him out.

"Oh, Jake - how is it you manage to get yourself into trouble so much?" _______ hummed. Jake, glancing up saw your face concentrating on the untying of his bonds. "I mean, I turn my back for five minutes -,"

He shook his head. "You were reading a cafe menu and I went to get a hot dog from the vendor and then I woke up here. It's not your fault!" He protested.

The face of _______ raised an eyebrow. "Why were you going to get a hot dog? You had just eaten lunch."

Jake shrugged his shoulders. "Ah, well. You found me though, so that's good."

"Peralta. How you manage to play nonchalant after what has happened, I will never know, but Jake ..." _______ looked into his eyes, their (e/c) eyes searching his, "Please be more careful. I - I love you. I don't want to see you get hurt ... I know we're in a bad job for that, yeah, but please take care."

Jake is still. He hasn't taken a breath since their pause, and his mind is racing. It's a lot to process, those three words _______ has  just confessed.

________. They love him.

"Babe ..." They whisper. "Talk to me. Oh, God, shit. Sorry. Shit. You - I'm sorry," you wince. "Geez, I thought -,"

He cuts _______'s spiel, leaning forward, still tied up, into their face, and almost too quickly but so slow, Jake is kissing them. It's magic, it's perfect. It's what he wants.

"Love you too, babe," he whispers.

"Peralta. _______."

He looks up, to see the familiar voice. It's Captain Holt.

"Captain," _______'s voice is weak, possibly ashamed to have been kissing a coworker after their drugging and abduction on duty hours.

It's silent for a moment. Then,

"When you are ready with Peralta, I will be outside with the paramedics to assess him. Detective, detective," he bids, and leaves the two of you to your own devices.

"So, is it true?" Jake asks.

"No, I was not reading a menu at that cafe, I was checking out your butt in the reflection of the window," _______ bows their head.

His eyebrows skyrocket. "I do have a winning tushie. No, doof, the love confession. The I love you."

_______ nods. "I've had a crush on your for what, eighteen months? And we've been going out for four of them?"

Jakes eyes widen in surprise. "We've been dating?"

You laugh. "I am so retelling this story at every thanksgiving from now until eternity. The day Jake Peralta forgot I was his pretty significant other due to being drugged by a secret underground ring of butchers and dragged to New Jersey."

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
